


Tether

by Fly_Little_Moth



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Fort Frolic, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Angst, Other, Rapture, be careful, only pretty vaguely but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27463087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fly_Little_Moth/pseuds/Fly_Little_Moth
Summary: 'Kyle was never one to irritate easily, usually. However, what with the steady collapse of his home and his fellow disciples treating him as a second-class citizen, the young man was reaching the end of his tether.'This is just a ramble of projecting onto an incredibly minor character, but I love him.
Kudos: 3





	Tether

Kyle was never one to irritate easily, usually. However, what with the steady collapse of his home and his fellow disciples treating him as a second-class citizen, the young man was reaching the end of his tether. Coming to Rapture was supposed to be the beginning of a wonderful life, filled with art and light, and perhaps at the beginning it was. Almost immediately, he was scouted due to his talent and Mr Cohen promised him everything he had ever wanted. Fame, fortune and his name in shining lights. It seemed almost too good to be true, and in hindsight he realised it was. His concerts would sell out, as being a new toy to perform for the elites of Rapture’s society came with plenty of its own rewards. Hell sometimes even Mr Ryan attended his concerts! Those nights were his favourite. The after parties that were held in his name were extravagant. No cost was spared, with a seemingly endless supply of the finest champagne money could afford, delectable appetisers, and most importantly to young Fitzpatrick, people who seemed to genuinely appreciate him and his talent. He had never expected a life like this in his wildest dreams, though he slowly realised that this picturesque life was slowly becoming a nightmare. Nowadays, the young pianist was lucky if he filled half of the seats in the theatre, and those that had wandered into the pitiful scene were often too spliced up to truly appreciate the music that he had once put his heart and soul into.  
He was not sure when splicing became an epidemic in the city that he had once loved, having been so occupied trying to prove to Mr Cohen that he was worthy of the special attention he was being given. He had never truly seen the appeal himself. His talent was God-given, why would he risk the one thing that made him special? He supposed being able to feel electricity flow through your veins would make you feel powerful, especially in a city where their ‘genius’ leader had seemingly abandoned them. The people needed to feel something, what better than having the elements at your disposal? Nevertheless, that image just was not tempting enough for him to risk it. Besides, he had seen what plasmids had done to Finnegan, who was once a genius had now turned into a recluse, with nothing but his ‘statues’ for company.  
However, Finnegan, while odd, often kept to himself. Sure, he would spend hours muttering to himself about this and that, but he and Kyle had a mutual understanding. You stay out of my way, and I will stay out of yours. It was an arrangement that Kyle was more than happy to follow. Unfortunately, it did not seem to extend to his other ‘co-workers’. Rodriguez was effectively harmless, choosing to spend his days with his head in the bottom of a bottle. It seemed that the only form of conflict you could find yourself in with him was if you decided to get between him and his precious booze. Kyle did not blame him really, everybody had their own vices, and as life in Rapture got closer and closer to full blown insanity, he often thought of joining Hector in his pit of self-despair. That is, if he were not pretty sure that Hector would rather get into a physical fight than have to share. The man may have spent the majority of his time in a near constant state of drunkenness, but the man was scrappy and Kyle was not about to be on the receiving end of his wrath.  
Then there was Cobb. Arrogant, slimy Cobb. Kyle was not sure whether he was an idiot or just plain mean, but the man seemed to have a natural talent to piss off the pianist. It seemed that wherever Kyle decided to go, Silas was waiting there, ready to annoy him. If one were to ask Kyle if he was jealous of Cobb, he would refuse. Perhaps he would call him a rude name or two, insisting that he had more brain cells than talent, and even then it was not much, but truth be told Kyle was jealous. Silas was clearly Mr Cohen’s favourite disciple, and Kyle resented him for it. It seemed that everything Kyle could do, Cobb could do better according to Mr Cohen. It was incredibly frustrating. Kyle felt as if he had to jump through quadruple the hoops to garner the same amount of attention. It was not fair, as the novelty of Kyle’s presence wore off, he could feel Mr Cohen becoming more critical of his performances, the young man could play the increasingly difficult pieces perfectly and he would still find critiques, if not in the performance it would. The world he was living in was starting to grate on him, and despite him having a large tolerance for the world around him, he was becoming closer and closer to losing it.  
Kyle would often find himself walking throughout Fort Frolic, the neon lights illuminating his adventures. There was always something to do, something to see. Some nights Mr Cohen himself took to performing. These particular nights were strange, to say the least. Perhaps age had finally caught up to him; maybe he had decided that his regular life was becoming too boring, or perhaps his very poorly hidden Adam addiction was starting to get the better of him. Nevertheless, Kyle appreciated the breaks that these nights provided. He would often write his music, or treat himself to a nice drink down in Eve’s Garden. It did not particularly matter where young Kyle wandered off to, as long as he was back at Fleet Hall by midnight, sharp. One of the many ‘perks’ of being a disciple was that when Mr Cohen wanted him somewhere, he was there. When Mr Cohen wanted Kyle to do something, no matter what it was he would have to. Occasionally it was as innocent as posing for a painting, but other times … Well Kyle did not wish to think about it when he was not in the situation. The only solace he found in those sessions was he knew that the others would have to endure them. In these moments, he did actually pity Silas. The man would spend more time than the rest of the disciples combined with Mr Cohen, who knew what happened to him during these meetings? Mr Cohen said that it helped him with his art, and Kyle pretended that he did not see the hesitation that was displayed on Cobb’s face before he was expected to sing praise to the old artist. Besides, it was not as if he could voice his concerns to anybody. Any type of concern or criticism of Mr Cohen had an awful habit of making it back to him, name of the poor soul who dared have an opinion included.  
So here he was, trapped, alone and with no way out. He was so, incredibly close to losing it. if he could find a balance between his work and personal issues, he might be okay. The New Year was coming up, and whilst he was not one for making New Year’s Resolutions, maybe he could make an exception. He knew realistically he could not continue like this. He would find a way to get out of this situation, and then he would help his fellow disciples. They had experienced Mr Cohen’s treatment far longer than he had, so it only felt fair to help. 

1959 would surely be a good year for them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for Reading!
> 
> This is my first ever fanfiction that I have written and it would be greatly appreciated if you had any constructive criticism!


End file.
